


life is hard

by rhymenoceros



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:58:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4819556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhymenoceros/pseuds/rhymenoceros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a while ago i saw a video and thought “that makes me think of modern au dorian in his first job after getting cut off from his parents” and decided it had to happen in fic form with cullen showing up to be a hammy bastard<br/>this literally took me months because i am Terrible but i have finally finished it<br/>so here u go<br/>enjoy</p>
            </blockquote>





	life is hard

**Author's Note:**

> http://weloveshortvideos.com/post/122678060452/and-you-thought-you-were-having-a-bad-day
> 
> shoutout to mayo for keeping the cullrian fires stoked and yelling encouragement and excited at me when requested  
> keep fighting the good fight  
> also shoutout to lovelyaveline for helping me keep writing and just generally being great and supportive

Well it was sure shaping up to be a fucking spectacular day, he thought as he helplessly wriggled on the ground in his ludicrous costume.

Dorian Pavus, self styled pariah of House Pavus and huge homo disappointment to his parents, was not having a very good morning. Being cut off from his family’s considerable wealth meant he’d not only had to relocate to a cheaper neighbourhood and depressingly dingy accommodation, but he’d been forced to accept the first job that would risk taking him on. It seemed his natural devastating charm could only get him so far in the world of work, where they apparently rather valued actual job experience over expertly coiffed hair and a killer smile, and as such he hadn’t exactly had offers thrown at him. This job, advertising on the pavement in a ridiculous, garishly yellow smiley face costume holding a big ugly sign with a big ugly advertisement on it, was the first. And with rent to pay and a rumbling stomach, he’d really had to say yes.

He hadn’t been with the company long. Still in his first week and he was already sick of the cars honking as they went past, the scathing glances from people he chirped the company slogan at, the uncomfortable stuffiness of the suit, all of it! It was ghastly. And it had only got worse when he’d dropped today’s sign - a large arrow, promising big savings and small prices - and in his attempts to pick it up, only succeeded in falling on his back due to the awkward nature of his costume. It seemed he was now unable to get up. "Of course," he muttered to himself, "Of course this is happening. This is my life now. One bloody embarrassment after another."

He'd just lain there for a moment, initially. He was coming to terms with the complete absurdity of the situation. When he did try to stand, his feet slapped and slipped ineffectually on the concrete like wet lettuce and he rocked side to side in a useless sort of overturned-tortoise fashion. His arms were restricted in their movement, his elbows inside the costume, so they were unable to help. He tried using his stomach muscles to sit up, but the outfit was still too big - this attempt only resulted in his legs waving about like useless sausages. How was this happening to him??! He was Dorian Pavus! Beautiful and graceful and distinguished, not...flopping around on the pavement like some missing link evolutionary bloody fish creature that hasn't figured out legs yet.

With one last very frustrated sigh, Dorian resigned himself to lying on the pavement indefinitely. This was his home now. This was his fate. He closed his eyes. Maybe someone driving past would see him lying at the side of the road and call the police, thinking he was unconscious or preferably dead, and they could help him. But until then, he may as well not waste any more energy on fruitless attempts to stand by waving his legs around and wobbling on the spot. He let out another irritated huff of air through his nose, decided to think of increasingly imaginative swears to describe his feelings on this whole situation, and hissed them under his breath.

"Shit. Fuck. Bollocking wank. Titting...arseballs. Wanky titbaskets. Buggering pisskidneys–"

“Excuse me,” a voice from above said suddenly with a barely concealed amused tone, “ahahum, sorry to interrupt but, um...are you all right?”

Was he all right? _Was he all right?_ What kind of ridiculously obtuse question was that? That didn't even deserve an answer! But Dorian was _damn well_ going to give him one. His brow furrowed and he let out yet another great, frustrated, dramatic sigh.

"Oh I'm great, I'm _brilliant_ , actually! I'm sweating to death in a swaddled coffin of cheap fabric and bad stitching for pittance, my hair is probably _ruined_ , and I'm fairly certain somebody's vomited in here recently. That bleach smell, you know? The kind you just immediately associate with glamour and hygiene. So yes, I am just fucking _dandy_ , if you'll pardon my crude Vint tongue. But enough about me - how are _you_?" He punctuated his sentence by swinging his right leg up and over his left knee, bobbing his foot as though he were simply a bored patient in a dentist waiting room as opposed to lying on the street, unable to stand.

There was a moment of what seemed like stunned silence, before a quiet (kind of cute) muffled giggle. The mystery voice spoke again, "Do you need help getting up?"

...The _nerve_.

Dorian was ready to delve back into his endless reserves of sarcasm for his next response from his sad position on the ground when he snapped open his eyes and actually saw the source of the annoyingly-rather-pleasant-sounding voice. Muscular, handsome, one could almost say rugged, strong chin, curly golden hair, a warm smile on a rather lovely looking mouth with a small scar stretching over his upper lip. He was actually speechless for a moment or two. Very unlike him. He supposed this was just another punishment fate was sending his way, to be laughed at by this absolutely stunning specimen of a man. He was probably straight too. Life was cruel to him like that. “Evidently,” he said, uncrossing his legs, reaching up to take the offered hand and pulling himself into a standing position - Maker, watching those biceps work was rather a treat. “It would be foolish to say no. I wasn't getting up on my own, and it’s not every day the universe sends you a gorgeous man in a tight t-shirt to literally pick you up.”

The man’s expression changed in an instant from mild amusement to genuine surprise. His cheeks went rosy, he idly plucked at his t-shirt and he let out a little nervous laugh, eyes suddenly avoidant. Maker, regardless of how adorable that had been, was he actually self conscious? Looking like that? At least that had been a positive response, Dorian thought, despite his huge, facetious, yellow handicap. A challenge, then. He almost started to subtly pose, as he normally would when flirting, but the costume kind of...ruined that. As such, he settled for trying to look as un-ridiculous as he could. While dressed as a giant smiley face.

It was then Dorian noticed just what was on this tight t-shirt. A picture of some chess pieces, and stretched across those pillowy man bosoms was some black text - 'this is my pawn collection'. He laughed, harder than he'd expected, "Speaking of t-shirts, I love it. Very amusing, and relevant to my interests. You're chess fan, I take it?"

A frown, a glance downwards, and his cheeks went even pinker. "Oh! Oh, Maker. I...yeah. My sister got it for me when I finally won the, uh...family tournament. I didn't have anything else when I left the house today..."

Dorian laughed again, the usually rich and honey smooth tone somewhat muffled by the suit, unable to help himself. His rescuer was adorable, with those burning cheeks, though his expression was turning more mischievous. He went on. "...I'd rather this than what you've got on, though. Is it really that bad in there? Were you serious about the sick thing?"

Dorian groaned loudly and shifted his weight to his other foot as he spoke. "Sadly, yes. I've never dared get a torch and actually look in here for fear of what I'd find. I don't think I could ever put the horrendous thing on again, and unfortunately I must, as this is my job. Hold your judgement - it's the first one I was offered, and I couldn't really say no."

"Is that so? Why's that?" the blond replied, cheeks still a little red.

"Ah, well. The short version is that I can barely afford my water bill. Especially considering I feel the need for a very long, hot shower whenever I take this off." He tried to shrug nonchalantly, but the suit ruined his efforts. He felt it was sort of ruining his game, especially as the more he moved, the more his handsome saviour badly repressed a smirk.

"That's awful," The man looked thoughtful for a moment, then patted the sports bag under his arm, hooked over his shoulder. "You know, there's showers at the gym. I just came from there, actually. They're not bad?...I mean, you know, they're clean, and...warm." He paused awkwardly and stared at the pavement, then reached up to scratch at the back of his neck with another small nervous laugh, "I mean, they're not _luxurious_ , it-- it's a gym. They've not got...velvet curtains, and...gilded tiles..." His gaze dropped to his lime green trainers. "I'm rambling. You could have a nice shower for free, that's...that's my point."

Dorian spent the length of this little speech watching the other in endeared amusement. Handsome? Check. Helpful? Check. Adorable? Check check _check_. If Lady Luck hadn't decided that now, in this stupid bloody outfit, was the time to send such a man his way, he'd be giddy with glee. Alas, it wasn't likely to be. As it was, he used the cover of the costume to shamelessly ogle the blond while he still could.

"Well, thank you," he started, "That's actually rather good advice. I hadn't actually considered..." He trailed off when his eyes caught the black phone in the other's hand, clearly open on some kind of video camera application. Oh Maker. Oh no. He hadn't, had he? _Please_ say he hadn't. "Is that...were you _filming me_?"

His saviour looked confused at first, then his expression dropped. "I-I-- Well--...It...."

"You _were_!"

At least he had the good grace to look sheepish about it.

"Well, you looked so funny! And you were just...rolling around...." His eyeline floated upwards in memory recall as he trailed off. He snorted, then hurriedly brought a fist to his mouth to stifle the giggle desperately trying to escape.

Dorian brought up one oversized white-gloved hand to a smiley-face eye - or rather, delicately held his hand to his chest in a clear gesture of offence taken. "Well." he said. "... _Well_."

Absolutely failing at hiding his smile, the magically appearing Greek god looked towards his shoes again, then seemed to take a big breath and looked up. "I apologise sincerely. I, um...I was actually on my way to get a coffee. I could buy you one, by way of apology...if--if you wanted."

For the second time both ever and since this conversation started, Dorian was thankful for his costume and how it obscured his face. His jaw actually dropped and he stared dumbfounded for a few long moments. Was he actually asking him out??? As in, on a date??? He was having trouble processing it. Then the man started to look even more nervous and awkward, and he realised that absolute silence as the happy face stared unblinkingly at him was probably not the best response to this question.

"Uh..."

"Sorry, you-- are you joking? Is this some kind of prank?" Dorian practically blurted out in an incredulous tone. There was no way, in his mind, that this spontaneous Adonis was asking him out for coffee when he hadn't even seen his face. Maybe there was even a small camera crew waiting to pop out at any moment to film his humiliation! He went to look around suspiciously, but couldn't turn his head at all and had to turn his entire body, spinning on the spot cartoonishly.

The taller man watched him spin back and forth, then finally found his voice again, "No, um..." A small sigh. "...No."

"Oh! Well, in that case, I..." Having stopped his scan for the prank paparazzi, he cleared his throat. "Um, sure, yeah." The blond didn't exactly look convinced by this answer, in fact looked surprised and somewhat disbelieving, so he continued, "I just wanted to check. I mean, my life hasn't exactly been going swimmingly of late--" he paused to gesture to his costume, "so the probability of an extremely handsome man suddenly appearing and asking me out has felt impossibly small."

The other man blinked at him. "That is, ah. You. You are the handsome man. Obviously." Dorian flapped the unhampered part of his arm towards him in a indicative gesture. It was feeling warmer than usual in his suit, especially as the other looked less anxious and more pleased by the second at the roundabout acceptance of his proposal.

"So that's a yes, then?"

"Yes, most defini-- oh." Crushing realisation hit him. "Actually. Remember what I said about this being my job? I'm sort of...in the middle of a shift. I can't leave. And my phone is dead..." He could feel all his hopes crashing out of heaven and plummeting to the ground like this man clearly had. This lovely, endearing, sweet man whose smile was fading into a tired, vaguely sad sort of disappointment.

"Oh. Oh, well, that's fine. I mean, if you don't...never mind then. I'm truly sorry if I bothered you at all." His tone was resigned, sincere, and Dorian was completely shocked. Did the suddenly materialising amber eyed marble statue really think he was fobbing him off with excuses? _Who would actually even do that?_ It was that hardly understandable self consciousness he'd seen with the first compliment. Absolutely baffling! He was so astonished that he found himself wordless as the man mumbled, "Excuse me," politely stepped around him, and began to walk away. It couldn't end there, it couldn't! Even if he did by some miracle see the other again, he'd probably avoid him out of utter embarrassment over what he thought was mockery and rejection. It couldn't end there.

...No. It wasn't going to. He turned on his heel and ran -  well, sort of waddled - to catch up.

"Wait!" he shouted. The blond turned. "Again, pardon my tongue, but fuck it." He pulled his arms inside the suit and began to struggle out of it as the other looked on in bewilderment.

"I don't need this shitty job anyway-- oof. I'm -- _show_ ering at the gym now. I got that idea from this really hot guy I met on the street." There was a truly joyful laugh from outside the suit, the kind that sounded like it could cure ills and revive dying flowers, and he cursed the blighted costume for obscuring his vision and muffling his hearing and...and...

 _Shit_.

It wasn't budging.

"...Could you just--"

"Oh, do you want me to--"

"If you don't mind."

This was the second time this man had needed to play hero to him today, Dorian thought with amusement as the suffocating fabric was pulled over his head. Not that he minded, really. He practically gulped down the fresh, non-bleachy air, relieving as it was, and stood up straight, finally getting his first clear look at his two-time saviour. _Very_ nice. "I'm Dorian."

The man dropped the suit with a vaguely disgusted expression, but this vanished when he looked up, his jaw going slack. "I-I'm...wow."

Dorian smirked and reached up to try and tame his surely-ridiculous-and-fuzzy-from-static hair, pushing it back into shape as he spoke before smoothing down his moustache, "Wow? That's an unusual name. I don't suppose you find much souvenir tat with that on."

The pinkness in his cheeks returned - really, it was just too cute. All this flustering and blustering. And apparently he had a very itchy neck. "No! I, um. My name is Cullen."

"Hm, Cullen. My point stands. I can't say I've ever seen that on a bookmark, or key ring, or children's placemat." Cullen laughed again, the same sort of laugh as before. Being responsible for the sound made Dorian feel very very warm, like he was still in the suit, and in Tevinter, and it was the summer he'd turned sixteen when the infused candles from Rivain had melted and completely ruined the antique Antivan rug, which he'd never been particularly fond of anyway. He was silently thankful that his complexion wasn't nearly as pale as the currently tomato coloured man in front of him.

"Shall we?"

Cullen nodded, seemingly unable to keep the beaming smile off his face, and started to walk with him - though glanced curiously back at the discarded costume. "That's a rather sad looking happy face. Are you just going to leave it there?"

Dorian looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Hmm. No."

He turned and walked purposefully back to the suit, "I'd like to formally say goodbye to this awful, awful job."

He gave the garish nightmare of an outfit a swift kick, grinned at hearing the delightful laugh once more, and trotted back to Cullen to continue their journey. "Glad to be rid of the damned thing. It's why I look such a mess, to be frank. Normally I'm rather stunning."

Again, the blond reached up to scratch behind his collar - it was going to be as red as his cheeks before long, but Maker damn it if it wasn't a cute habit - and cleared his throat before speaking, "If this isn't you as 'stunning', then I'm rather looking forward to seeing you when you are."

That had been...unexpectedly smooth. He usually found it easy to take compliments in his stride, but there had been something about that one that had him - well, not blushing, he didn't _blush_ , but his face certainly felt rather hot, which he ignored in favour of his usual tone of self-certainty.

"My my, how confident to assume we'll decide to meet again," he retorted, smile evident in his voice, "...Though I must say, the idea of cleaning myself up and really blowing you away is appealing."

There was a shy giggle from Cullen. "By the way, I like your t-shirt too."

Dorian glanced down and completely cringed at what he was wearing. Black leggings, ugg boots, and an oversized Queen t-shirt, sporting the It's A Kind Of Magic album cover. As much as he took pride in the way he presented himself to the world, he preferred maximising comfort when having to stand by the side of the road for hours on end, and in all honesty hadn't exactly expected to be suddenly going on a date. He brushed off his embarrassment with what he hoped was a confident sounding laugh. "Ahaha, well, thank you. I'd apologise for my...frankly _slobbish_ appearance, but honestly? Walking next to you, people aren't going to be looking at me for once. Their gaze will no doubt be drawn in by your excellent demonstration of colour theory. By the way, I feel I should tell you, since it seems nobody has - neon isn't in style any more. If it ever was."

The taller man huffed in an mock offended sort of manner through his nostrils, and held his head high and proud as they walked, "I happen to like my shorts, I'll have you know."

"That's sweet, it really is, but fluorescent orange isn't really the worn thing. Especially with shoes in such a different kind of green. And did you really not have a bag to match?"

Cullen looked down at his red and grey gym bag, puzzled. "This is...the only one I've got."

"...Well, at least you seem to have other redeeming qualities."

"Clearly I'm far too kind to snarky fashionable men I find on the ground." Dorian laughed loudly and Cullen continued, "But I suppose they make up for it by being good company. You have a really nice laugh, by the way."

He nearly tripped over his own feet at that - no, _Cullen_ was the one who laughed like the sun shines, not him, and the spoiled waxy Antivan rug came to mind again as he felt the wave of heat spread up his face and he muttered, "I--...Thank you."

He wasn't a stranger to compliments, but mostly about how he looked, and nobody had ever said that before. He glanced at the smiling, muscular blond with rosy cheeks walking along beside him. Despite everything that had happened lately, he was hopeful - after all, it had lead him here. Maybe things were looking up.

**Author's Note:**

> queen totally exists in modern thedas  
> https://videomusicaonline.files.wordpress.com/2011/04/queen-a-kind-of-magic-470407-3.jpg


End file.
